


Raise Them Higher

by ExpressAndAdmirable



Series: The Heroes of Light [63]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Final Fantasy I
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Drow, F/F, F/M, Literal Sleeping Together, Polyamory, Romance, The Jaxa Cycle, Tiefling, high elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpressAndAdmirable/pseuds/ExpressAndAdmirable
Summary: Lux reflects on her blossoming secondary relationship, and she and Sol have a conversation she has been avoiding for a long time.





	Raise Them Higher

The difference between reverie and sleep, Aviva had come to realise, was in the cadence of breath. An Elf in reverie still breathed as they did in waking, calm yet shallow, as if waiting with infinite patience for the right moment to speak. In sleep, their breathing deepened, their bodies relaxing into slow, even rhythm. It was a peculiar trait not immediately discernible to the untrained eye, but Aviva had spent enough nights curled around her Drow to sense the subtle shifts from one state of rest to the next. She knew it had more to do with physiology than environment, the body turning to sleep in times of necessary recuperation. Still, as time progressed she had also come to think of it as a sign of quiet trust. Elves did not sleep around just anyone.

Elerian the Seer was definitively asleep. Not that she could blame him; after spending much of his midnight hours building a dreamscape to soothe her keening psyche, he had teleported himself to their airship to meet them as they stumbled out of Deepgift. Then, with surprisingly little fanfare given the sheer immensity of the task, he had expended every remaining shred of his magical energy to resurrect Cidney Morgan from the dead. It was little wonder he was exhausted.

Once he revealed he had not left himself enough magic to return to Crescent Lake and would be remaining on the ship until the Heroes’ tasks were completed, the no-longer-a-Gnome/possibly-still-a-Servitor/certainly-a-Lefein Cidney had offered Elerian her captain’s quarters. She felt more comfortable knowing he would be safe while they cleansed the Altar, and she was fairly certain she still preferred to sleep above decks anyway. She also offered the space to Aviva for some privacy with the Seer, blithely unaware her statement carried any immodest connotations. In many ways, it seemed, she had not changed at all.

Stretching out on the oversized bed, Aviva and Elerian allowed themselves a few moments of peace, trading the weight of the outside world for intertwined fingers and tender smiles. Their conversation meandered through all manner of mundane things, unwinding their tensions and laying the night’s horrors to rest. Soon the Elf’s head grew heavy against his arm, and she touched her hand to his cheek and bid him rest awhile. They had both more than earned it. A few wry quips and a playful kiss later, he acquiesced, and within minutes his breathing had slowed.

He had been sleeping the first time she saw him. Serene and beautiful, otherworldly, unreachable beneath the veil of poisoned torpor. She had thought him more fey than man. Once woken, however, he surprised her at every turn, trying his best to convince her he was just as mortal as she. Vibrant and clever yet infinitely gentle, the Seer possessed a youthfulness Aviva could not claim even of herself. The way he kissed her – eager, untried, with a boyish excitement that belied all his years and knowledge and wisdom – was the truth of him, simple and precious. Now he slept at her side, vulnerable in his trust, and as she watched him breathe, she could not help but smile. No harm would befall him here.

But for her, sleep simply would not come.

She closed her eyes, willing her mind to clear, begging her racing thoughts to grant her respite. Still, the memory played. Inhaling deeply, she listened to the sounds of the living ship around them, the steady beat of her pulse in her ears, the breath of the sleeper beside her. Still, it echoed. One endless refrain, one calm, measured voice that normally brought such safety and solace instead giving life to her darkest fears, branding searing, red-hot words onto her heart. Words that she could no longer afford to ignore.

She sighed. Even if she could trick herself into dozing, she could not risk disturbing Elerian with the tempest raging inside her. Carefully, she extricated her fingers from his and rose from the bed, leaving a light kiss on his brow before straightening. He stirred slightly but did not wake. She stepped toward the wooden foot table, considered her discarded belt, and decided to leave it, retrieving a single cigarette from the cedar box in her pouch. It was perhaps an unnecessary gesture, but it was a promise more to herself than to him. She would not run from anyone anymore.

The ship was quiet, the stillness of daytime slumber permeating the halls and common rooms. She opened a porthole in the outer wall and smoked with singular focus; there was little hope of calming the churning in her stomach, but she observed the ritual nonetheless, following the curl of smoke as it disappeared into the afternoon air. Continuing down the corridor, she paused outside the door to her cabin for what felt like an eternity, hand closed around the doorknob, steeling her tired nerves. Then she entered.

Haluei'en still lay where she had left her, rolled onto her stomach on the bed. Aviva sat lightly at her hip, running a hand up the Drow’s back and eliciting a low, pleased rumble in response. “There’s my Tiefling.”

“Hey you.” Aviva shifted as Halei rolled over, catching her hand in hers and placing a kiss on slate-grey knuckles. “Sleep okay?”

“Mmm.” Halei pulled the bed’s second pillow beneath her head. “How long was I out?”

“Not so long. Maybe an hour or so.” Aviva smiled, let it fade. Her time of evasion had ended. “Halei, can we talk? About this morning?”

Halei blinked the last of the sleep from her eyes and pushed up to sitting, folding her legs beneath the blanket and resting their clasped hands in her lap. With her free hand she tucked a lock of violet hair behind the Tiefling’s ear. “Of course. Speak to me.”

Aviva chewed her lip, reading the lines of Halei’s face for awhile before speaking. “You don’t want to be resurrected if you die.”

At first, Halei said nothing; she knew this conversation had been coming for as long as Aviva had been avoiding it. Finally, gently: “No, I don’t.” She ran her thumb over the Tiefling’s knuckles. “I know that’s hard to hear.”

Aviva huffed, surprised nearly into laughter by the magnitude of the Drow’s understatement. She looked at their hands, at the vivid contrast of their skin, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Why?”

“Because I’ve spent the better part of two decades preparing to avenge a life taken. Once I take that life in turn, that will be the end of it. It would be wrong not to accept the same of myself.” Her grip on Aviva’s hand never wavered, strong and sure.

“But…” Aviva paused to gather her thoughts, struggling to keep the anxious frustration at bay. She knew how frightening this talk would be, yet still she found herself unprepared for the full reality of it. “We have the tools to treat death as an interruption, rather than an end,” she said slowly. “A temporary setback. Why turn that down? Why not live out your natural life?” She met the Drow’s gaze again; the natural coda to the question, _with me?_ , remained unspoken.

“I’ve denied too many the opportunity for the same.” Halei shrugged one shoulder. “It wouldn’t be just.” She quirked a small smile. “But I do understand. I used to feel the same way.”

“What changed?”

“Fighting in the wars. It made me realise that everyone and everything has its time, and helped me make my peace with that.”

“But you accept healing,” Aviva pressed. “I’ve brought you back from the brink of death more times than I can count. We’ve cured diseases and mortal curses. Why can’t death be just another malady to be healed?”

Halei thought for a moment, wrapping her other hand around Aviva’s, kneading her knuckles with her thumbs. “Death is different. It takes something on another level to kill someone, to push them across that line. Whether my death comes from my failing or another’s success, it’s a consequence I accept.”

Aviva was silent for a long time, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

“I know.” Halei squeezed her hand. “That’s alright. But can you accept it?”

“Does it matter?” Aviva shot back before she could stop herself, her grief suddenly clawed and vicious. The rage dissipated as quickly as it appeared and she flinched in silent apology.

“Yes,” Halei answered softly, unfazed by the Tiefling’s thorns. “You’re going to be alright if something happens to me. I believe that, but you have to believe it too.” She lifted a hand to brush her fingers over Aviva’s cheek. “You’re one of the strongest women I know, Aviva Lux. I need you to draw on that strength to let me go if I die.”

Aviva closed her eyes, tears stinging the corners, her head tilting ever so slightly toward the Drow’s palm. She nodded. “I’ll try,” she murmured, her throat tight. “I’ll accept that it’s what you want. I don’t know if I can accept that it’s best.” Then her eyes shot open, blood chilling in her veins. “Jack.”

“What about her?”

“She said she was going to hurt the people I care about if I didn’t go with her and they would all end up like Cid and if she makes good on her threat and comes after you–” Her breath hitched, the thought she had repressed since the previous night unfolding with horrible clarity. “It was supposed to be you. In the tavern last night. Oh gods, if she had…” Trailing off into a frightened sob, she clutched Halei’s hand. “Please come back,” she begged, her pitch rising in desperation. “If it’s her, just if it’s her. Please let us bring you back. I can accept anything else, anyone else, any manner of losing you, but not her. Please, not her…”

Shifting forward on the bed, Halei slid an arm about the Tiefling’s waist, pulling her close and holding her hand tight. She waited patiently as shudders rolled through Aviva’s body, only speaking once the fearful revelation had run its course. “You know I can’t make exceptions,” she whispered. “That wouldn’t be just, either. But we know her endgame now, and we can defend ourselves against it. Forewarned is forearmed. We won’t be surprised like that again.”

“You can’t know that,” Aviva moaned miserably, resting her temple to Halei’s forehead. “You can’t predict everything.”

“That’s true,” Halei admitted. “But…” She hesitated, considering, sorting through her theory before releasing it into the air between them. “Even if I die, I don’t think I’ll be truly gone.” Sensing the questions in Aviva’s posture, she continued. “I think something of the previous cycles are carried in our stones. An echo, a soul, something. We’re holding the previous Heroes in us, and if I die, the next Earth-Warder will carry something of me in them.” She kissed Aviva’s cheek. “Maybe you’ll love them too.”

“I don’t want to,” Aviva choked, fresh tears rolling down her face. “I don’t want whoever comes next. I don’t want _anyone_ to come next. I want you.”

“Aviva,” Halei chided affectionately, “you are actively falling in love with another person as we speak. You can’t tell me you won’t have enough love for whoever comes after me.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Aviva protested, defensiveness mingling with her despair. “Elerian isn’t you. He’s not _replacing_ you. You’re literally asking me to let someone else replace you!”

“I know,” Halei nodded, placating. “I know he isn’t. And I know I am. But you have so much love to give, and for all we know, that love is part of the cycle. Fire and Earth might be meant to love each other, whether they’re Aviva and Haluei’en, or Aviva and someone new, or two different people in a different cycle entirely.” Aviva blinked, any further protests stunned out of her both by Halei’s words and the unflinching sincerity of her belief. The Drow threaded her fingers into the taller woman’s hair, resting her palm at the base of her neck. “I know you’ll be able to heal and move on if I die. Not quickly, or easily, or painlessly, but you will. I believe in you.”

Another long, contemplative pause. Then, reaching, searching for a bridge: “Do you see something of Bornelius in Maergrahn?”

Halei shrugged again. “He does have a pet duck.”

Aviva snorted, then lapsed back into silence as she mulled over everything they had said. All at once, she came to a decision. “Let’s make this a non-issue.” She lifted her chin, resolute, wiping her cheeks with her free hand. “Be careful. I mean it. Don’t throw yourself headlong into battle, especially if Jaxa rears her crazy head. Stay close to where I can see you and get to you, and remember that you don’t always have to be the first one in the door. I can learn to respect that you have one life to live, but I’m going to protect the shit out of that life and I expect you to do the same. Alright?” She raised a brow. “No funny business.”

Halei grinned, her relief palpable as she watched Aviva begin the journey back to her usual self. “I think that’s more than fair.”

“I love you, Haluei'en.” Aviva smiled, weary but genuine. “I always will. Whatever happens, even if there are others, even if you’re… gone. I’ll always love you.”

“I know,” Halei answered, drawing her in for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

Aviva touched her forehead to the Drow’s, sighing deeply, putting the subject to rest for the time being. There was still melancholy at the corners of her consciousness, but cold, creeping dread no longer gripped her heart. She felt, if she allowed herself to be perfectly honest, quite a bit better than she had expected. “You hungry?”

“Starving, now that you mention it.”

“Come on.” Aviva stood and tugged Halei’s hand. “I’ll get something going on the stove.” Then she patted her hip and her shoulders slumped. “Bollocks.”

Halei cocked her head. “What?”

“I left my cigarettes by Elerian.”

The Drow’s lip curled into a smirk. “Oh, poor you. Now you have two places to forget things.”

Aviva scowled at her, unable to hide the grin beneath. “Shut up. I’ll start forgetting _your_ things too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title song by Jason Webley.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at @expressandadmirable for a proper table of contents for the Heroes campaign, commissioned character art, text-based roleplay snippets and more!


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